I Hate You
by Tamashi.no.Koe
Summary: Boy meets girl. Cared for and sheltered meets tough and streetwise. Can two people from opposite worlds possibly get along? Can there actually be chemistry between Fuji Yuuta and Isugi Sanna?
1. Street Fighter

Chapter One – Street Fighter

_St. Rudolph? Another crappy school. Just great._ I slouched into the--in my eyes--crumbling building, wanting to rip up the disgusting brown uniform.

_What am I doing here anyway?_ Just another set of pathetic giggling girls, another bunch of perverted boys. New people to fight with. Just another school to get expelled from.

Students drew away from me as I passed, as if they were afraid that their billowing silky curls would be contaminated by my lank, tangled hair, or that their hatefully happy eyes would mirror my icy, diamond-hard ones. The usual drill, I'd gotten used to it. I was the loner. I was the freak. I liked it that way.

Banging my bag onto my desk, I slumped into my seat, totally ignoring the stares, the whispers. _Let them giggle, let them sneer._ I could always slam my fist into their stomaches, watch them writhe in pain on the ground before I was kicked out again.

"Hey. Uh, excuse me?" I turned my eagle's gaze on the boy who had just come up to me. Brown hair, black eyes, the usual. A scar like a cross on a his forehead.

"You're in my seat. It's Isugi Sanna, right? You're in the seat next to me. So, er, could you move?" the guy said uncertainly. No surprise there. I was intimidating. I needed to be.

Contemplating him, I kicked out the chair next to me and dropped into it, dragging my bag along with me. He had asked nicely enough. No reason to beat him up too soon.

I could sense his wary eyes on the side of my head. "What?" I obligingly snapped.

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Nice to meet you too. Fuji Yuuta. Welcome to St. Rudolph."

"Welcome? Yeah, right," I snorted. _Like you don't want me to get out right this moment._

"Fine," he grumbled. "You want to be like that? Suit yourself."

_Fine. Get all annoyed. See if I care._

See if I care. My life motto.

Couldn't care less if this Fuji hated me. Didn't matter if I got the teacher pissed.

"Isugi, question 18?"

"1974," I drawled in a bored voice.

"Speak prpperly and stand up when answering."

I didn't raise myself off my seat. I remained sitting for a long while after that. In the principal's office. _See if I care._

Lunch. Does that even need elaboration? Disgusting rice, yellowing vegetables, stale fruit juice, the usual.

A particularly bold member of my wonderful class decided to be friendly and hit my arm with a piece of carrot. Being the naturally playful person I was, I threw my whole tray back at him. Another visit to the principal's hell of an office. Fantastic.

I literally breathed a sigh of relief when the classes ended. But still there was no escaping the terrible walls of my new torture chamber, otherwise known as school. Why? I lived there, of course. Isn't it obvious that my own horrendous family didn't want me?

Still, my life wasn't a total waste of time. I still had tennis. Over my own dead body was I joining the tennis club, but smashing a ball against a wall, or any other idiot who happened to be passing by? I could still do that. It was a violent, vigorous, and most importantly, solitary activity. I loved it.

Bam! Bam! Bam! Most would think I was trying to punch a hole into the building. They were dead wrong. I wanted to reduce it to a fine powder.

"Hey, sexy. Want to come play with me?" Some wannabe cool guy swaggered up to me, dramatically sweeping back his greasy black hair. I stopped in my attempt in pulverizing school property. Slowly and deliberately, I looked him over from head to toe, taking long enough to make his smirk falter.

I scorned nervousness. Back to my relentless smashing of the wall. I had decided to be nice and let him go without a scene. Not getting the message, the guy brought over a few of his pathetic friends.

"Babe, stop playing hard to get. Come and hang with us," they told me.

Giving the ball a final wallop, I lowered my racket, relishing the crack that followed as the battered yellow ball made contact with someone's nose.

The piercing scream was very satisfying.

"Holy--she broke his nose--"

"Get her!"

_You want to fight? Glad to help you out._

Tall, lanky guys with their flailing arms and sad, slow motion punches. It almost seemed wrong to hit back. Almost. A jab to the teeth here, a kick to the stomach there, it took nothing at all to beat the cockiness out of them. They stumbled off to nurse their wounds, I threw my racket into my bag and walked off without a scratch on me.

_Preppy school for losers. Can't even get into a decent fight._ Anyone could've seen that little fiasco. Anyone could've gone and blabbed to a teacher.

_See if I care._

"You should have 'street fighter' written accross your forehead."

Another guy who needed a lesson. _What's his name? Fu...some weird...oh yeah, Fuji Yuuta._ I tossed him a cold glance. More than he deserved.

"Though next time when you need to work off nervous energy, challenge me to a tennis match."

_Challenge you? Some nobody who probably can't even hold the racket right? Please._


	2. Mirrored Smile

_Chapter Two – Mirrored Smile_

"Go to a teacher and tell her I've been fighting. Whatever. Just stop stalking me."

"Tell on you?" Fuji pretended to consider. "I might take you up on that offer. But not before I've played against you."

_Why do I even bother to argue? Not a single word goes through his thick skull._ I placed a hand on the shoulder he had used to block my path and shoved it as hard as I could. He didn't budge. Intriguing.

"No, no, no, Isugi. You fight me on the tennis courts. Not before."

The bell rang. As dense as Fuji was, he too knew we had to get to class. Math. A subject on which I probably knew more on than the people who wrote the stupid textbooks. So why do the dumb questions?

"Class, take out your textbooks and we'll go over the questions 1-10."

Fuji jerked my new, never-been-touched book from my fingers and shoved his into my hands. I tried to grab it back my he whipped it out of reach. "Do the homework yourself next time," he whisperedd.

_There's a sucker born ever minute._ He had exchanged his neatly written answers for my blank pages.

"Isugi? First question?"

"135." Since I had the answers...

The teacher totally freaked out. Teachers often go nuts at the first piece of homework a student had completed in three weeks. It was understandable. I let him delude himself that his detentions had forced me to turn over a new leaf. Rare happiness twitched within me. Another evening free for tennis.

The elated teacher gave me a smile that nearly dislodged his false teeth when he saw me staying after class at lunch to do that day's assignment. I did the questions in my head and copied them down into the book. Fuji's book. I owed him. On second thought, I scribbled them down into my own. More time for tennis.

"Eat much?" I sneered, seeing Fuji holding two lunch trays down at the canteen.

"Nope." He held one out. "This one is for you."

"Hmph. I'll get my own." I started to stalk off.

"Just take it," he coaxed. "Save your money for that new wristband you want."

_How does he know?_ In any case, he had a point. I grudgingly took the tray. Seeing as he had paid for it, I tolerated him sitting next to me while we ate.

"So, Isugi--"

"No."

"But I did your homework for you! And got you out of detention for the day. You'll have time for a match."

_I never told you to do my stupid Math._ The food on my tray disappeared significantly faster. _Does this guy_ never _give up?_

"Oh well. If you're sure." _Guess he does._ "Lots of other people don't like losing either."

_Losing? Who says I'll lose? I never lose. Never._ "Time and place," I snapped.

_How did this happen?_ I stood opposite Fuji, surveying his stance and furrowed brow as he prepared to serve.

Bam! The serve was fast, but nowhere fast enough. A sharp ping echoed from my racket's strings as I struck back.

Almost immediately the ball shot back at me. _Super Rising. Interesting._ But still it was no match for my speed. I retaliated with my own version of Super Rising.

"Whoa!" _Whoa._ He had managed to return it. Only just. The yellow speck rose high above my head.

I leapt, preparing for the smash.

Fuji was smiling. I caught a glimpse of his beaming face as I rose into the air. I could have ensured that he never smiled again with one stroke of my arm, one swing of my racket. I wanted to, at first. But when the time came, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Couldn't bear to wipe that innocent smile of elation off his face, as much as I hated it. Because, deep down inside a part of me that I no longer touched, I was smiling the same way.

Instead, I aimed for a spot near his feet. Which brought about the same effect, meaning I won a point.

"You're pretty good!" he said cheerfully, not at all dishearted at having lost the point. I wordlessly returned to the baseline.

Back and forth, back and forth, we passed the ball back and forth until the sun grew tired of our tedious game and hid behind the trees.

_What is this feeling? Why is my heart beating so fast when I'm obviously not tired?_ Anxious for his next serve, so that I could make my next move. Something so new to me, yet so familiar. Like a fairytale I struggled to remember from the early years of my life. Not understanding in the least, I struck the ball harder.

Our never ending match went on until it was interupted by a teacher's shout, telling us to get inside and have dinner. This time, I insisted on paying.

After the meal, I retired to my roon and extracted an English assignment from underneath a pile of books. It took a while. I hadn't thought to do it before now.

Sighing, I settled down to the immensely easy and extremely boring task. If I could avoid detention tomorrow, maybe there would be time for another tennis match.


	3. Loner No More

Chapter Three – Loner No More

"Hey, sexy. Want to hang out?"

No punch up. Not even a glance. there was no need.

"Shut up and go pick on some other girl who actually likes idiots like you," Fuji said ferociously, shooting daggers at the guy with his angry brown eyes. He took care of things for me ever time.

_Why is it that when he does that I feel warm all over?_

"Got time for tennis this afternoon, Isugi?"

"Homework. Test on Friday, remember? How about Saturday, Fuji?" I was officially on speaking terms with Yuuta. I called him that in my mind.

"You've been no fun since you turned into a straight A student. Satuday, you say? Oh, sorry! I totally forgot to tell you. I have to go to this tournament that day. All the tennis regulars have to be there. Wait--oh no--that's your birthday, right? Oh gosh, I'm sorry!" He looked so utterly woebegone, it was a little ridiculous.

"Whatever," I said indifferently.

_It hurts. Why does it hurt?_

A few months ago, I would have wanted to kick something. And I would've gone ahead and done it. Now, I wanted to play tennis with Yuuta. To work off the depression of not being able to play tennis with Yuuta.

_I'm a certified nut._

Studying that afternoon wasn't easy. I kept going over the forbidden daydream I had come up with in class. My first birthday at St. Rudolph. My first birthday when at least one person didn't hate me.

I would spend the whole day doing what I loved best. Somehow both I and Yuuta could muster the strength to play tennis all day long. A birthday cake would be too much to ask for, but in my imagination there was one, materialized from thin air, a plain round one with white icing and "Happy Birthday" written on it. We would cut it together. Perhaps, to be more realistic, I would get my first birthday card, like the ones stacked high onto the other girls' desks whenever their birthdays came around.

I played this perfect day over in my head, and pushed it to the back on my mind. Yuuta wouldn't be around to make even a small bit of it come true.

Not having studied much, Friday's test went so well that I couldn't answer a single question.

_What is the name of Napoleon's last battle? How am I supposed to know? Who cares, anyway? Napoleon's boring. Yuuta's always telling me--_

I slammed my fist to my head to clear it. And halfway succeeded, since all the information on history definately evaporated, but Yuuta's face still lingered. _Arrgh! Why can't I stop thinking about him?_

Saturday was hell.

Without Yuuta there, no one stopped some of the meaner girls from very kindly pointing out that I had no cake, no cards, no presents, and no friends to celebrate with me. I was very much tempted to put them all into hospital and wheelchairs for life, but refrained from doing so, now that I had a reason not to get myself expelled.

I turned to tennis. But it had happened so slowly, so subtly that I had never noticed the change. Very used to rallying with Yuuta after he finished his normal training, playing with a wall now seened dull and pointless. It brought me no satisfaction whatsoever and I hated it. But I kept going anyway, all through the day, striking harder even as I felt my strength seeping away. No one else would play with me. There was nothing else I wanted to do.

So I played, and my thoughts drifted to Yuuta. _Wish you were here, if only just to stop those girls from pointing at me behind my back and whispering into microphones about how much they_ pity _me, alone on my own birthday._

His face sprung clearly into my mind's eye. I swung my racket mechanically forward, and missed the ball.

_Darn._ I never missed. Not anymore. So why--?

Yuuta. He popped into my head at odd moments. I thought about his excited smile whenever we had a match, I thought about his hearty laugh when I told a rare joke, I thought about him, period.

"What is happening to me?" I yelled, missing the ball for the twentieth time.

"Having a hard time?" A familiar voice floated over.

I spun around. "Fuji. Back so early?"

"We finished our matches early. Most of us, anyway." He grinned ruefully. "So what's up with you? You're off standard today."

"I--" _How can I put this?_ "It's all _your fault!_"

He recoiled. "Whoa. Back up. What did I ever do to you?"

"You--you're haunting me!"

"Huh?" Utter preplexity.

"I hate you!" I shouted, throwing myself at him and beating at his chest. My fists started to hurt.

As this was all very sudden, I didn't blame his reaction. "Isugi--"

"You're in my mind all the time. I can't stop thinking about you! I can't concentrate on my work, I flunked a test and now I can't even play tennis right because I'm thinking about playing with you! I couldn't do a single thing today because you weren't there. I want to be with you so much, all the time that I feel sick! I don't understand. I--" I was never good at verbalizing. This was the longest speech I'd given in a very long time.

My confusion and reckless anger only got worse when I heard Yuuta's laugh. In my worked up state I thought it sounded relieved, though of course I couldn't think why. "Isugi..." he began, in a tone I'd never heard him use before, which I chose to disregard.

"Quit laughing!" I screamed, and was about to yell some more when my senses caught up with me and informed my disdraught brain that Yuuta had wrapped his arms around me and was now holding me tight. Instinctively I clung to him, like I never wanted to let go, not caring that it was a crazy thing to do, hugging the person you really hate.

"I hate you," I whimpered feebly. "I can't do anything without you anymore."

"Then I guess I should hate you too," he whispered back. "I nearly lost my game today because you weren't there to cheer for me, and I was feeling so guilty for not being there on your special day..."

"It's ok, Yuuta," I sighed. "You couldn't help it."

"If only just for the sake of being able to get on with our lives, let's stay together...Sanna."

I laughed, the same laugh he had given just a moment ago. Except now I understood it.

I understood, too, that what I felt for him wasn't exactly hate. Hate didn't make the world seem perfect.

My birthday daydream? Poof! It went up in smoke. Still there was no cake, no cards, no presents. But I definately had a friend. Maybe a little more than a friend. And for me, that was more than enough.

You know, I was _glad_ that my daydream hadn't come true. I was glad, because reality was so much better.

It was twilight. We held each other all the way through the sunset.


End file.
